


If There Were Two Trolls On The Moon And The Big One Put The Small One In His Ass And Then Ate Him Would That Be Fucked Up Or What

by Dragoneisha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Armpit Kink, Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, M/M, Macro/Micro, Size Kink, Soft Vore, Sweat, Vore, musk, nonconsensual vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoneisha/pseuds/Dragoneisha
Summary: It is what it is.
Relationships: Grand Highblood/Tavros Nitram
Kudos: 19





	If There Were Two Trolls On The Moon And The Big One Put The Small One In His Ass And Then Ate Him Would That Be Fucked Up Or What

**Author's Note:**

> seriously read the tags. 
> 
> this one was out of my comfort zone but i was happy to do it, even though it took me so long! I'll be doing prompts and requests like this more often.

Playing with the frightened little thing on his fingers is like… well. It’s like having a bug skitter over his claws. Like… watching a squeakbeast struggle in a trap that didn’t quite break its little neck. Like watching a group of shambling empty-minded lowbloods enter a circus and get to play with them before they break.

To put it simply, it’s like every other moment of his life - flexing his power over things weaker and smaller than him. The Grand Highblood, of course, delights in it.

This one will be harder to play with - mostly because of the horns. At the same time, though… him being only just shy of a grasperful of troll makes things easier, too. It's like the messiahs preach. Everything has darkness and light behind the same wicked sliding glass door.

“Um,” says the little handful, as the Grand Highblood's thumb presses into the unarmored pouch of his tiny belly. “I - I-I’m sorry, I’m - I didn’t mean to be, um, so close - you’re so b, so big, wow, um…”

“I’m pretty motherfuckin’ large an’ in charge, little morselmouth,” the highblood rumbles, slipping the little troll between his first two fingers. He wiggles his fingers back and forth, trying to trollhandle the guy to make his neck snap back and forth. Maybe he’ll get whiplash. Maybe it’d snap. “Iunno if big even covers it at your size. Why, a wandering grub could gobble you up.”

“Well, I'd - I'd hope not, haha,” the little troll laughs nervously, looking a little sick. Might be that he’s scared, but the Grand Highblood would put money on it being the rough treatment. He doesn't need to, but gambling’s fun, even when he's not proper doing it, yeah? 

He just smiles. Now, a lot of trolls will think a smile is a kind thing, but those idiots, far as the Grand Highblood is concerned, are… shit, he’s already said idiots, hasn’t he? The point stands. A smile ain’t nothing kind when you have teeth like steak knives. Lotta young trolls don’t see that - this one included, he’s certain. He relaxes when the Grand Highblood smiles.

So he keeps smiling, and waits for it to sink in.

“... Why - why are you looking at me like that?” He flinches, then, as the Grand Highblood’s fetid breath washes over his face. His face crinkles, and the Grand Highblood feels a sharp bite of excitement.

“Wh’d you say your name was? Nitram?”

The troll nods. “Tavros. Um, Tavros Nitram. Is my name. Please let me go.”

He’s growing some dignity. The Grand Highblood will have to pick it out of his flesh like pulling worms from earth. His tongue spools from his jagged mouth, and he licks his way up Nitram’s torso, rewarded with a startled squeak.

The troll shakes in his hand, looking up at the highblood with wide, frightened eyes. Are those tears he can taste? The Grand Highblood can't really tell if the shitblood was crying when he licked him, but he's sure starting now. Nitram pushes at his thick fingers, struggling to get out of his hand. There's a moment of fear, sputtering in his throat, like bubbles roiling the surface of a hot spring.

“Oh god,” he rasps, breaths uneven, with the delightful creaminess of sobbing fear. “Oh god. No, no, p-please, let me go -”

“Nah, motherfucker,” laughs the Grand Highblood, reclining back in his seat. “Y'ain't gon’ be goin’ nowhere.”

The troll convulses in his hand. He tries to claw at the Grand Highblood’s thick-skinned fingers, but doesn't even break the skin. The Highblood shakes him, briefly, but he continues to struggle. That's irritating. His eyes squint half-shut, and he snarls at the little bastard that continues to struggle. As much as it gives him a throb in the groin to let him struggle, he has something to do with his hands. He'll have to put him somewhere else. 

Doesn’t wanna put him down. He might crawl away - the Grand Highblood is quick, but he does get distracted pretty easy. Gonna need to use his hands. If he puts the fucker in his teeth? He's probably gonna bite him in half, sausage style. Not what he wants. Yet, anyway.

Gush of blood might be nice, but… nah. Got better options.

The Grand Highblood lifts an arm. He spins the little morsel in his thumb and forefinger, and then he growls to bring his attention to where he’s going to be.

The struggling pauses as he looks up into the massive expanse above him. It’s amusing. The lowblood squeaks, struggling even as the Grand Highblood is pressing him into the hairy, stench-filled cavity of his pit. The Grand Highblood smushes him around a little, grinning slightly, before lowering his arm to pinch him in there. As the troll struggles and squirms in droplets of sweat, enfolded in stink, the Grand Highblood chuckles to himself. Kinda tickles.

Stilted, hollow screams buzz against his skin. The Grand Highblood chuckles, shifting his hips back and forth with a thumb in his woolen pants. He gets one leg out of them, bracing his foot on the arm of his chair. He half-boredly tangles his claws in his wild pubes. He’s worked up and half-hard from it. He plays with his foreskin - it’s stubborn, sticks for a minute - as he lifts his arm, letting the little troll he’d had trapped there tumble out and slide down his body, to end up ass-up on the highblood’s primordial pouch. The Highblood flicks the curl of his black, ragged claw against his butt, and Nitram tumbles into the tangled cloud of his pubes. The little troll yanks an arm, but the knots are there, and it only barely pulls at the little crevice between his thigh and groin. The Grand Highblood chuckles.

Nitram _sobs._ Sobs like a little grub. He turns himself in the cloud of unkempt hair, and the Highblood extends a hand, presses to fingers into his chest, and rubs him along - slow, unstoppable - to the base of his dick. Nitram struggles, but, well, there ain’t a lot he can do to stop it from feeling good. His hands skate uselessly over the Highblood’s sweaty skin, one catching in the wrinkle at the base of his bulge.

He spreads his legs a little more, and judging by the way the little morsel gags and coughs mid-cry, it must have musk to it. Course it does. A troll his size (in every direction) makes a lot of musk. Makes him smell mature. This little grub can’t handle it, it’s his problem. Maybe if he’d lived longer he’d have a more developed appreciation of that kind of scent. Unfortunately… 

“Please!” begs the troll, pawing up helplessly to grasp at the edge of a ragged, uncut claw. “Ghh, it s-stinks! Why are you, why, why do this?!”

“ ‘sfun,” he answers, and then tunes out the rest of the whining. The troll slides easily along his sweaty bulge, caterwauling the whole time, he struggles to get out from under the Grand Highblood’s first two fingers, but he’s got a firm press on the guy. He toys with him there, for awhile, before sliding the little thing around his bulge to press him facefirst into his taint.

The troll makes a noise of broken disgust. The Grand Highblood’s ear twitches, and a lazy grin splits his face _just_ enough to bare fang. He laves his flat tongue over the ponts of his incisors, keeping drool frok dripping while he rubs the troll at his mrcy into his sensitive taint. The feeling of his useless struggles sends the occasional shock of pleasure up his body, and he curls his toes. Tiny fists beat against the edge of his hole, quickly yanked back once it's realized what they're trying to pound. The Highblood can’t help but snicker. But it does give him a pretty good idea.

With a little grunt, he slides a little farther down in his chair. He spreads his legs properly, good enough that his cheeks peel away from one another, and sighs out. The troll sobbing against his taint gags and coughs, writhing like a beheaded snake under the insistent press of his fingers.

“If you're so desperate for it, who am I t’deny a motherfucker?” The Highblood titters in quiet amusement, sliding a finger from between the grub’s shoulders to the back of his head. He presses his face into his asshole, and the Highblood tenses slightly around his half-inserted head, disproportionate horns pressed against his flesh to keep his head from going any further. He shifts, trying to push him in further, even as the troll flails uselessly, body rubbing against his taint in delectable ways. He can almost feel the screaming inside him. 

He lifts his hand away. Alright, he clearly ain't gonna fit that way, the fucker’s horns are massive. Nitram surfaces, struggling away from his gaping asshole, and the helpless kicks and struggles help him slip further down. The insistent press of a back of a claw folds him at the waist like a broken pencil, and he’s pressed slowly, incessantly inside, up to his knees and armpits, and he cries about it. The Grand Highblood can just barely see above his paunch, so he adjusts to get a better view, knees spread wider. Nitram pounds his tiny fists against the Grand Highblood’s thighs, which is pitifully weak. His hiccuping sobs swell his chest enough to stretch the rim of the Highblood’s hole, and he chitters in quiet contentment. What can he say? Shit feels good.

He presses the tiny troll in with the pad of one finger, until only his fingers and toes stick out, thrashing helplessly where they are attached to the hidden hands and feet below. Slowly, he emerges again, gaping in horror and struggling for air, only for the sae finger to push him back down. He’s not so much a fucktoy as he is a random object, pushed up the Grand Highblood’s ass for his own amusement, even as his tinny voice screams every time he surfaces once more. 

His next bout of thrashing hits the Grand Highblood right in a sensitive spot, and he jerks, bulge twitching as it lays on his thigh, fat with blood. Might as well give it some attention. He reaches to stroke it, almost idly, as he fucks himself slowly with the squirming, desperate body of the lowblood. Nitram screams when he clenches down on him, a raw, ragged sound. The Grand Highblood throbs about it, and his head falls back. He grits his jagged teeth as his cock pulses.

“Mnnnh, c’mon,” he cackles, as Nitram’s screams taper off instead into ragged, helpless gasps. He starts to slow his wriggling, but he just manages to nudge against that nice little spot again, and oh, there it is, there it is -

He cums in sudden spurts, indigo soaking his chair and his crotch, and as the lowblood slips from his hole, he’s soaked as well. The two of them pant almost in tandem. The quiet sobs and screeches have petered off from the lowblood - he just breathes, now. Almost empty. Lights are on, but nobody’s home. 

He can fix that, but… he'll need a second. The guy's not going anywhere anymore.

The Highblood has to take a minute to breathe, but as he does, coming down from his high, Nitram doesn’t even move. He’s learned, then. Good. 

A pinch on the back of his sodden, sticky shirt, and the lounging highblood picks up the limp body of a troll so violated. His pose is like a little meowbeast grub. A quick shake sends a few drops of cum and grime off him, and rouses him once more. Was he out for real or playin’ dead? The Grand Highblood wasn't sure, but it doesn't matter. He's up now either way.

The dirty, smelly troll that’s been so violated lolls his head towards the Grand Highblood. The only thing that shows his skin color at this point are the tear tracks down his hopeless face - he’s sweaty, grimy, and stinking of the Highblood’s most royal scent. Delectable indeed. (His mouth waters.)

As his lips part and his fetid breath washes over the morsel pinched in three fingers, the Grand Highblood gets to watch as realization sets in on that already terrified face. Tiny hands reach to grasp at the Highblood’s fingers. He cuts himself on the edge of one claw, but he's clever - trying to rip his shirt to get away. A desperate act, in the end, but it's a fun one to watch.

Nitram sobs as the Grand Highblood licks a fat, wet stripe up his exhausted body. He can't even taste the tears at this point - just nasty earthiness and a strong tang of cum. Most of his fear-taste is gone, but hey. Not all. It's like a little zest under everything else.

He doesn't lick him clean, but he gets him nice and slick - well, slicker than he was. Nitram spits slobber and cum, pushing at the Highblood’s tongue and only directing it to different, unlicked places.

He would continue, but he feels an odd tightness in his throat all the giggling means he’s swallowed air, seems like. The troll in front of his mouth is treated to parted jaws and a moment’s pause, broken by a rumbling, stinking burp. The Grand Highblood hears Nitram start to gag before it’s even fully out of his mouth. Hah! That’s good stuff. Tiny fists bounce against his upper lip.

When the Highblood tires of it, he sits back in his sodden chair and opens his maw. He waits, just to hear the troll’s last, desperate wail, as he tries to struggle out, before pushing him into his mouth.

Guh. He’s a little oddly shaped, but he’ll fit with a few good swallows. The Highblood plays with him, a little. Turns him over, presses him up against the hard palate. He digs his shaking grasper in between two teeth, and the Grand Highblood has to pry his wrist out from between with his tongue. Like a kernel of fuckin’ popcorn.

It’s funny.

He loses his novelty quick, though, so it’s time for the Highblood’s favorite part. He tips his head back and swallows.

He goes feetfirst, struggling enough to almost make the Highblood gag. He doesn’t, but it’s close. Another few gulps have him going, agonizingly slowly, down his throat, mostly due to those wide horns, but - just a little further - and the uncomfortable tightness disappears as he makes it into his stomach. He may still be squirming… or, that might just be wishful thinking. Whatever it is, the Grand Highblood sits back to enjoy it.

He’s a nice little snack.


End file.
